I seconded him; for at once the fearful suspicion came across me that our little Aveline might be the child spoken of. We were rejoiced to find that several bystanders echoed our sentiments. The feeling that something should be done to rescue the prisoners spread through the crowd. I wondered that such had not been done before: it might have saved the lives of many innocent men; for those tyrant priests would never have dared to inflict punishment on their victims if the nation had boldly risen up against them.
We were at too great a distance from the platform clearly to distinguish the features of the prisoners; but when the guards opened out a little, so as to expose them to view, we saw two persons in the dress of priests, and in a group of women a young girl, whose figure was exactly that of Aveline. My heart sank as I saw her, and then it seemed to rise again and throb and boil with indignation. I felt capable of daring and doing everything to save the dear little girl. Even should it not be Aveline, I would do much; but I would risk liberty and life, and run every prospect of suffering the same fate, for the sake of rescuing her.
And now the priests were led up to the platform, where stood a Bishop—whom we supposed to be Bonner himself—with several other ecclesiastics round him. These seized the unhappy priests, and tore their robes from their backs, and then scraped on the crown of their heads and the tips of their fingers: this being to signify that the oil of anointing was scraped off. This operation occupied some time. It seemed as if the Bishop and his vile myrmidons took pleasure in prolonging the torment of their victims. Fierce words were spoken to the priests in loud tones. Though we could not hear the words, we knew this by the gestures and by the occasional sounds which reached our ears.
At length, one by one, the martyrs were led down again from the platform towards the stakes to which they were to be secured for burning.
Again they were asked if they would recant.
Their reply was a stern refusal to give up what they knew to be the truth. Having stirred up the people round us, A’Dale and I, knowing full well the risk we ran, worked our way up still nearer to the platform, waiting here and there to ascertain the temper of the multitude. As far as we could judge, they were all in the same mood; all equally hating Rome and its fearful proceedings. As we got nearer, we had no longer any doubts as to who were the intended victims. In one of the priests I recognised my friend Overton; in the other, Friar Roger, whom I had wrongfully suspected; and there too stood with the females our little Aveline. She seemed perfectly undismayed. Her eyes were cast upward, and, so it seemed to me, an angelic smile played over her countenance. Could those demons in human shape have the heart to burn so young and innocent a creature? A’Dale and I, seeing this, began to speak more boldly to the people round us. We asked them if they were men to submit to such tyranny. Would they wish to see their own daughters, and wives, and sisters, burn before their eyes?
“You see those innocent people about to be put to a cruel death!” exclaimed A’Dale; “after burning them, the same men will proceed on to burn those you love. Strike a brave blow now, and you will make them quail before you.”
The people applauded us, but few seemed disposed to move. They had no weapons except thick sticks, and the guards were well-armed. Whether notice of the temper of the crowd reached the ears of the authorities, I know not, but they seemed eager to hasten on with the executions. A band of vile ruffians, who for wretched pay would commit any atrocity, were engaged in surrounding each stake with faggots. In a few minutes more, fire would be set to the piles.
“There is no time to be lost!” I exclaimed to A’Dale; “we must make the venture now, or it will avail nothing.”
“Men, Englishmen, countrymen, will you allow those innocent ones to perish before your eyes, and not endeavour to save them?” exclaimed A’Dale. “On, men, on!” but the crowd stood back.